Air and Stars
Finished 13 August 2005

People who write love poetry seem to think that the stars are permanent. The fact is that nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing stays in place even in a single night; the stars appear to spin around the north pole or the south; the planets travel with each month. Even the position of a north star can change, in the space of several millennia.

And now, if Vincent's navigators are correct, there's something seriously wrong with the night sky. The stars are shifting, in a way they never have before. Astronomy isn't Vincent's specialty, but it doesn't take an astrophysicist to know that that sort of thing isn't supposed to happen.

It's almost as disturbing as the changes in weather in Dusith. Likewise, he doesn't have to be a genius to realise that if it's possible to even notice changes in Anatoly across the huge buffer of the Grand Stream, then something very strange is happening. There's a kind of worried murmur among those in the know, barely audible, of the coming end of the world.

Vincent sighs. Thinking about the end of the world is bad enough without the sinking feeling that his best friend is probably involved in it. And it's a terrible thing to remember that at one point in time all Alex wanted was love and marriage, maybe a couple of kids, and as much sky as his Vanship let him touch. Simple things, that didn't require dragging two continents and a race nobody's sure is quite human into the bargain, or infuriating Alex's barber so much by his infrequent visits that the man gave up and cut his hair in a style that could actually go three months without a trim and still look mostly presentable.

It suits Alex, in a way it would never have in the past.

Vincent is too young for his and other people's lives to be flashing before his eyes, but there's too much time on his hands now that he's lost the Urbanus. It's practically cruel and unusual punishment. A captain without his ship is… nothing.

(Vincent's crew told him that they were sorry to see him go but on the bright side, if the world really was going to be ending soon, then it probably didn't matter all that much one way or another.)

It's all changing. Which is a damned pity, Vincent thinks, because he sort of liked the world the way it was, except the part about the war.

And now the person to watch is Sophia.

It's probably too much to hope that she comes through completely unscathed, but it'd still be something for her not to end up like Alex. He'll do anything to prevent that; Vincent would rather die than have to think about both of them, on top of the end of the world.

Vincent glares up at the sky for a moment longer between his curtains, and then gives up for the day.

And, overhead, the night sky wheels through its unfamiliar orbit.